Curse of the Midions

by Brad Strickland

“Wh-what?”

  “Lord Zoroaster is my grandfather. My mother was—was—”

  Zoroaster put his hand on her shoulder. “She was my only daughter. You see, back on Earth, I was Tantalus Midion’s bitter enemy. He never actually met me, nor did he realize that my name was truly Midion, but he knew I opposed his evil plans and his use of the Grimoire. He had no hold on me, but he did kidnap my only daughter and force her to come to this terrible place. You see, he thought that if her life were in his power, then I would give up.”

  “But you came here—”

  “I came here, yes. I took the name of an evil man who had helped Tantalus—but one, like me, whom he had never seen face-to-face. I came here not just to fight Tantalus Midion’s magic, but to find and save my daughter.” Zoroaster took a deep breath. “By the time I arrived, she had vanished into the crowds. For years I searched for her, while pretending to be one of Tantalus Midion’s helpers. Until I found her, I was unable to face him openly, you see.”

  “Did you find her?” asked Jarvey.

  “Too late,” Zoroaster whispered. “I found her too late, not more than a year ago. In all that time, I never realized that she had been married to one of Tantalus’s hated policemen. Her husband kept her practically a prisoner, until he made Tantalus angry at him. When Tantalus had the man punished, my daughter fled and went into hiding. By the time I found her—”

  Betsy was crying. “She’s dead,” she said softly. “The note that my grandfather gave you led me to her grave. He was waiting there and explained things to me.”

  “Did Tantalus kill her?” Jarvey asked.

  “No,” Zoroaster said. “Despair did. The first Transports were immortal in Lunnon—unless they lost the will to live. When her daughter and her husband were taken from her, my Estella simply gave up and died. Possibly no one but a Midion could do that. Death is a way of escape, you know—the final, grimmest kind of escape. No one around her knew about her parentage, though. No one took particular notice of her death—not even Tantalus, who never knew that the man who became one of his advisors was the same one whose daughter he had stolen back on Earth.”

  “Here,” Jarvey said, holding the Grimoire out. “Use this to find my parents. You promised.”

  Zoroaster sprang back, his expression shocked. “Don’t tempt me with that cursed book! It would corrupt and ruin me, as it has others of our family.”

  “You promised!”

  Turning his face away, Zoroaster said, “Listen, Jarvey: I cannot use the Grimoire because I have studied magic, and its power would change and warp me, turn my good intentions to evil ends. For weary years I have tried to put right the terrible wrongs my kin have done, but I cannot use the Grimoire to find your parents. You will have to find them.”

  “I don’t know how!” Jarvey wailed. “And—and I’m afraid.”

  “I know you are. Our evil kinsman Siyamon will try every spell he knows to find a way to the book. If he succeeds, you are lost. You have to master your art, Jarvey. I don’t know how to advise you. Midions have always trained their own in the art, father to son. And they start when the son is much younger than you are. Your magic has awakened, but it lies under the surface. I can only tell you that you must keep the Grimoire safe, and that you must not use it, except to travel to where your parents are imprisoned in it.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Zoroaster confessed, looking defeated. “All I can tell you is that you are a Midion, and if you use your art for good and not evil, you may have a chance.”

  “All alone?”

  “Not alone,” Betsy said. “I’m going to help.”

  “You can go back to Lunnon, though,” Jarvey said. “If Zoroaster can get there, he can take you too.”

  “I can’t,” Zoroaster said. “The Grimoire might allow her passage, but no magic of mine would be safe for her. My spells will allow me to pass between worlds, but I survive only because my art protects me. I don’t think that my art is strong enough to keep the passage from killing Elizabeth. The Grimoire could send her back, but I dare not use it.”

  Betsy’s expression was determined. “I wouldn’t go back to Lunnon anyway. There’s nothing for me there now that I know I can’t help my mother. And it’ll be war, won’t it? When the people learn that old Tantalus’s magic no longer can destroy them, they’ll rise against the Toffs. The Free Folk are better organized than the tippers know, and I think in the end there’ll be a new Lunnon, one run fairer and freer than the old one. But it’s their fight now, not mine. All that held me in Lunnon was trying to find my mother, and that’s done with now.”

  “I must go back to Earth,” Zoroaster said. “Siyamon Midion is a formidable enemy, worse even than Tantalus. I will have to fight him on that side while you keep the Grimoire safe.” He paused. “I hope you can protect it without having its curse fall on you. You have some power, but you have not perfected it. The Grimoire has little hold on you. It is evil, though, the curse of the Midions. It will try to trick you and trap you, Jarvey. Still, if you hold on to your desire to free your parents, if you fight against the book’s temptations, I think you have a chance.”

  Jarvey held the Grimoire and stared down at it, hating its unearthly texture, its deadly weight. The book gave him a chance.

  It wasn’t much, but it was all he had.

  All? he wondered. No, not quite, because he had the Grimoire, and the desire to find and rescue his parents, and Betsy.

  He had a chance, a hope, and a friend. Against that stood the unknown, the threat of old Siyamon, and the curse of the Midions. He raised his eyes and saw Zoroaster and Betsy looking at him.

  “All right,” he said. “We start right now.”

  THE END OF BOOK ONE